All Over Again (KatnissxFinnick)
by suffocatedsinner
Summary: Finnick Odair was a promiscuous idiot in Katniss Everdeen's mind. He sickened her so much that her bones rotted green. So, when her life, the people in it and what they were telling her didn't add up and make sense - after she had a horrifying one-night stand with Finnick Odair that she couldn't even remember - she wanted answers. Answers that could only come from Finnick himself.
1. One Again

_**Summary:**_

**_There was always something about Finnick Odair that Katniss Everdeen did not like._**

**_He repulsed her, in a way. He was fabricated like the people of the Capitol were but in a different sense - a District 4 sense. He wasn't tattooed or overly-muscled, and he didn't have any surgery or, in fact, anything colourful about him. It was simply his aura, his being, his personality that seemed fabricated. Acted. He was as fake as a Capitol woman's boobs._**

**_To her he was, anyway. The rest of Panem was falling all over him._**

**_Regardless of other people's thoughts, Katniss did not like him. In fact, she sort of loathed him. He was a Victor - a tribute - yet he was machine, just like the people of the Capitol! He wasn't scarred from his Games or plagued by memories in his sleep; in fact, Finnick Odair slept only one way and that was with a woman. Every single night, he had them! There was an endless train of women he had slept with, and sometimes more than once._**

**_That sickened Katniss. It sickened her so much that her bones rotted green._**

**_And so, the thought of spending any time with Finnick - nay, breathing the same air as Finnick Odair - made her gut clench and her hands clamp up into clammy fists. She had to suppress a nasty string of names at the very thought of him._**

**_Yet somehow, in some strange way, Katniss Everdeen woke up in the Capitol heartthrob's bed. Naked. Just like all those other women._**

**_And, dear Lord, how she wished she remembered why._**

**New story! I hope you like it. This one is in third person and is a little different from my other story; as I'm working on two now, updates will probably be a little less frequent. I'll try go one chapter (for both stories) a week. Sorry!**

**Also, just to let you know, I completely ADORE Finnick and Annie together and this fanfiction is in no way going against their relationship. I just like writing Finnick and Katniss together because of their relationship in the books.**

* * *

As little as she liked to admit it, the Hunger Games had scarred Katniss Everdeen in a way that was almost unfathomable. She could barely eat, barely sleep, barely wake without thinking even once about the Games she had participated in and how, ruthlessly, she had murdered to live. She would think back on the faces of the tributes - all of them, every single one - and feel so dirty and so guilty that sometimes she'd spend ages just brushing an arrow against her skin as if to pierce it. She never did. It was just something she did whilst she thought.

Killing herself would make the other tribute's sacrifices meaningless - whether those sacrifices are voluntary or not.

Sometimes, though. She thought about it. She thought about Rue and Peeta - all the dreadful lies she told Peeta that still, now, curdled her stomach - and she would hate. She would want so badly an impending darkness and nothingness that, once, she accidentally did pierce the skin.

It was an accident. Her hand moved by it's own accord. And yet... And yet...

Peeta had walked in on her. It was barely a cut - nothing to worry about - but he had nursed it and left, coldly, after seeing she was mentally fit and emotionally stable; they weren't talking to each other.

They still weren't.

She thought he'd at least speak to her after the Games, even if she lied about loving him and put on a whole charade simply so she could live - so _they_ could live. And it worked, didn't it? They were alive. They got enough sponsors to pull them through and, evidently, a whole lot of sympathy; they wouldn't let the star-crossed lovers kill themselves. It was too sad - too tragic! There had to be a happy ending.

And there was. Sort of.

Yet Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, woke up nightly with nightmares so real and too vivid that sometimes, she could feel the flickering flames ripping at her skin like the claws of a tiger and feel the heat roaring up her legs and embracing her arms, enveloping her completely in a withering squeeze which had her sweating and panting and...

_Screaming._ There was screaming. Was it her? Katniss didn't know. She could just feel it tearing angrily through her and her ears ached with the sound; the rawness of her throat told her that yes, it was her, but by _God_ she couldn't stop. It was just spewing out of her like an endless chain, forcing itself up her dry throat as she thrashed around in the bed, still locked in her nightmare which was filled with Mutts and fire and a deep, echoing loneliness and pain...

"Katniss? Katniss, wake up, Katniss. It's okay. I'm here. It's fine." Something was smoothing back her hair, even though it was wet with sweat, and ignoring the hits Katniss' flailing arms batter it with. "Katniss, wake up. It's okay."

She didn't know why but she did. Her eyes pinged open and she noticed that her face felt hot and clammy with tears and perspiration. Her first instinct was to wipe her face and try to regain control of her breathing but instead, she did something else: Katniss, first, stopped screaming. Then she took a heaving breath. And finally, the girl threw herself at something warm and hard. Something that had arms and hands and hair, and smelled of a sea-salt and sugar cubes. Sea salt? How did she know that? Could she know that? She'd never smelled the sea. Not really. She'd smelled dirty water and bogs and a small pond which her dad always used to take her to but not the sea, never the sea.

It relaxed her. And then, of course, it made her stiffen and stop breathing because she had absolutely no idea why it relaxed her.

Or who it was that smelled of sea-salt.

Katniss pieced together that it had to be someone from District 4; they were the fishing District and only someone from the fishing district would smell of the sea, of course - but logic told her it couldn't be, because she knew no-one from District 4.

And yet she was wrapped up in someone's arms. A sea-salted someone, too.

Katniss went to push herself away right then and there, not only angry but feeling vulnerable and defensive and worried and also kind of scared; paranoia drove her to that. The Hunger Games did, too, she guessed. Yet the paranoia of knowing who the hell was hugging her to their firm, heated body was something that drove her _insane_ - and it worried her most that that insanity was not purely bad.

With her heart thumping in a way she considering weak and irritating, Katniss' muscles tensed and she went to pounce - and then, the arms tightened around her. Something buried in her hair.

She felt so safe; so warm; so content. And yet she was shaking like a leaf with tears brimming in her eyes and an anger pulsing through her veins.

"God, you must have been a bad nightmare tonight, Katniss." The voice engraved itself into her skin. It scorched her. She felt hot in not only disgust but confusion, too - and the ever-evident fury. "Are you okay?"

Katniss shoved the man away aggressively, panting through her muddled emotions. "No!" she said. "No, I'm not okay, _Finnick._ What the hell are you doing in my bed?!"

The sight of Finnick Odair sprawled on the other side of the bed made her hands bunch up into fists. She could feel a headache pounding in the back of her skull and wondered if it had been there since she woke - and, also, there was a nausea claiming her that made her emotions seem more volatile, more intense. She was fueled on her confusion and on her hatred. What the hell was Finnick Odair, promiscuous Capitol heartthrob, doing staring up at her with those stark, muddled sea-green eyes and-

Oh, God! Katniss realised with a sickening gulp that he was naked, and quickly averted her eyes. Quick deduction made her notice she was naked, too.

Her hands began to shake. "Oh, no. Oh God, no..." Her head pounded back and forth, back and forth in denial, synchronous with the thumping headache she was sporting. "Did we...? Shit! Damn! Oh, _God..._"

Katniss felt like she was going to puke. It didn't help when Finnick, like an idiot, asked cautiously, "Katniss? Are you okay?"

The girl scrambled for the covers as she repressed the urge to hit him and herself and, most importantly, flush a furious red. He was stupid and naked and was making it very hard for her to hate him when he was staring at her all besotted and sleepy, with red-eyes and a barely-functioning brain. He was still a disgusting idiot to her, though, never mind all of that.

"Did you hear me?" she snapped, glowering at him when she finally covered herself decently. "I asked what you're doing in my bloody bed! Hell, what are you doing in _my_ District?!"

The realisation settled on Finnick Odair's face so suddenly that Katniss wanted to hit him with something because only now was he realising that she was pissed off and hazy and _in need of answers_. The agony and the torture that smothered his features went by unnoticed by Katniss, though. Whether she was too caught up in emotion to see or care or whether Finnick covered his emotion quickly was debatable.

What mattered was that Katniss didn't notice.

"Well?" she asked. She felt silly, tugging the covers to her breasts in a feeble attempt to remain decent. And he was still naked. "And put some clothes on."

He didn't. "What's the date?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Katniss' breath caught but she ignored it and angrily replied, "What? The date? You're na-"

"Yes. I'm naked." Finnick smiled smoothly. "I know. What year is it?"

"What the hell has useless trivia-"

"Asking you the year is not useless trivia. What year is it?"

Katniss' glare was so withering that for a second, Finnick really did see the girl on fire emerging from her depths. "2108," she replied, tight-lipped.

The despair broke Finnick's facade again, like a crack through the earth. Still, Katniss did not notice it. Nor did she notice his unbearable longing. "And you don't remember why you're here?"

_More like why you're here!_ Katniss muttered inwardly. Instead, she said bitterly, "No, Finnick." What a bloody idiot.

"Oh." His grin could light up a Christmas tree. It was cocky and slanted and completely and utterly _Finnick Odair, _and he stretched out like a large, unashamed cat.

He reminded her of Buttercup. It almost amused her that someone she hated reminded her of another someone she hated.

"That's kind of funny." His grin grew wider and he tousled his hair. "You must have drunk a lot last night, huh?"

Katniss shook her head in confusion but had to grip her brow when the headache intensified. And so did the nausea. "I..." She didn't want to admit it to him but, judging how crappy she was feeling, she bet he was right. She must have been drinking. "Shut up!" she snapped.

Finnick's smooth lips curled up into a predatory smirk. "That's what I thought. So, let me piece it together for you, girl on fire: we slept together. Last night." That smirk widened. "A _lot_."

Katniss was so startled for a moment that, even though she was expecting that answer, she didn't know what to say. She was spluttering and turning red and unable to meet his eyes; instead her gut clenched and her hands curled into balls, gripping the bed sheet, and she felt like she was about to puke. "_W-what?!"_ she said, looking a little green.

She had _slept_ with Finnick Odair, the man who had slept with more people than she had blood vessels?! _Finnick Odair?! Of all people?_ God, she was going to be sick!

Thinking on it, she remembered. She remembered the way his hands gripped sturdily at her hips and at her thighs; how his soft lips peppered kisses down her neck and collarbone and the length of her body; how she melted into him and gripped at his hair, arching her back as he pushed into her and she let him have her so completely that she felt drunk. She remembered leaving hot scratches down the length of his tanned back; she remembered smashing her lips on his, fiercely; she remembered collapsing to the bed in a heaving, sweaty tangle of writhing bodies only to catch his eyes and feel something stir in her, then start all over again...

Katniss choked back a gag. "I-"

"And this isn't your house, girl on fire." Finnick spoke smoothly, as if he was announcing the morning weather. "It's mine."

* * *

**I'm sorry this was SO short (and it is, believe me. It's really short!) but this is only an introduction. The next chapter will be longer, I promise. I actually feel awful about how short this is. Ah, sorry. :(  
I hope you enjoyed this nevertheless!**


	2. Two Again

**I'M AN AWFUL HUMAN BEING. IT'S TAKEN ME SO LONG TO UPLOAD THIS. I'M SO SORRY! D:**

**Truthfully, I've had this chapter written for a while but so much has been going on and... well, it's been messy. _I've_ been messy. I apologise for that!  
**

**Anyway, ****last chapter I mentioned about my updating schedule! That's going to differ a little, actually; my other story which can be found on my profile (and is also a Katniss/Finnick, so check it out if you get the time! :D) is my priority, and will therefore be updated maybe twice or, if I can manage it, thrice a week. This one will be updated once a week. I'm sorry about that.**

**If I can, and if this story really gets as popular as the other, I'll even out the schedule and devote more time to this one. Thanks so much for your support so far though, guys! I really appreciate it. I'm sorry this chapter is pretty short; recently, with how busy I have been, short is all I can manage. xox**

* * *

Katniss felt her heart stop for a moment. She felt sick and shaky and her headache was making it hard to concentrate but she was _sure_, she was _sure_, she heard him right - but, she couldn't have! It was _her_ house. She was sure of it. She was in District 12, in her house in Victor's Village! Maybe this was all just a nightmare. A big, stupid nightmare which she'd wake up from in a fit of sweaty desperation and feel her shoulders sag in relief.

Katniss shook herself. She pinched herself. She tore at her hair.

"What _are_ you doing?" Finnick asked in amusement.

She couldn't take the playfulness in his tone; it's irked her so much that when she spoke, she practically bit his head off. "I thought that, maybe, my subconscious decided to be even more of a nightmare today, considering I'm in a dream with _you._"

"So you decided to wake yourself up to be sure it's a dream," Finnick mused. He cocked his head at her, looking stoic. "Or maybe a nightmare."

"A nightmare!" Katniss laughed harshly and stumbled up from the bed, clutching the sheets desperately to her chest. "Definitely a nightmare."

Finnick Odair gasped dramatically and clutched at his chest. An annoying little smirk wormed it's way onto his lips. Katniss so desperately wanting to smack it away. "Oh, you wound me!" he said, shaking his head. "Surely, I'm not _that _bad."

Katniss scoffed. "I'd rather face down a mutt!" she said venomously. Then, remembering her dream, she back-tracked. She could feel the fear ripping her apart; hear the gruff pants of the mutts as they charged after her and pinned her down; feel their labored, acrid breathing as it crawled down her neck and their teeth seared her body...

She shook herself suddenly, feeling the putrid emotions of her dream seep into her now. No. She was wrong before. A mutt would be much worse than Finnick, who was looking at her sympathetically from the other side of the bed...

"It was just a dream, Katniss," he said soothingly. "You're not in the arena anymore."

Katniss squeezed a bitter laugh out of herself but she wanted nothing more than to have him wrap his arms around her, or to have a moment of deep and painful remembrance. "No, I'm somewhere _worse__," _she said, knowing it was a lie. She ignored the previous wish to have him hug her, which still lingered in her chest like a dying flame. "I'm waking up in a house which is apparently not mine, knowing I've just had sex for the first time with a man who's slept with half of the Capitol!"

Finnick scowled at her. "Don't question my life!" he snapped.

"I wasn't!" Katniss felt her hands bunch into fists. "I was stating what it is! A train of endless Capitolite whores!"

Suddenly, Finnick withdrew. He smirked sardonically. "My my, someone's jealous," he said. "Are you always this grouchy when you're hungover?!"

Katniss' anger flared. "I am _not_ hungover!" she spat. Her killer headache and nonsense thoughts told her otherwise. "I'm _angry!"_

"Then how can you explain your memory loss?" Finnick countered. "You can't remember anything that happened last night. The amount of alcohol you drank could certainly do that to a person."

"Drugs could, too," Katniss said. "You probably drugged me."

Finnick was suddenly smoldering. It made him look powerful and endlessly strong - all in all, _unfathomably_ attractive. "Now I'm a rapist, as well as a whore?!"

Katniss glared at him. "I didn't call you a whore!" she said hatefully. "You're more like Capitol's gigolo!"

The ferocity in Finnick simmered, then vanished altogether. His body tightened and his face went blank. "Get out," he said blandly. "Just get out."

Shock and confusion baffled Katniss to the point of immobility. "No," she protested after a moment of stupidity. "Not until you tell me what happened last night and why you're in _my _district!"

Finnick sighed. A sigh of resignation and tire. "I'm here for Haymitch!" he said, brooding. "He's my friend. I said I'd look after him, what with his drinking, so here I am."

Katniss stiffened, indignant and muddled. "I can do that," she said. "I have been since I got out of the Hunger Games."

"Well, this gives you a permanent break, doesn't it?" Finnick asked. He didn't expect an answer and instead, swiped a hand through his hair as he looked out the window to the sun, hidden by clusters of heavy cloud. "Besides, there's plenty of victor houses free here and I have nothing left for me in Distrct 4. They were happy to let me leave."

"All too happy, I'll bet," Katniss muttered.

Finnick ignored her. "I gave up my victor house there and moved here for Haymitch. People like me here and I can help them out. Besides," Finnick shrugged, as if his next words were nothing, "I like it here."

Katniss narrowed her eyes at him. "Here? District 12?" she asked, skeptically. "The District that Panem forgot?"

"Evidently," Finnick started, indicating to himself, "we didn't forget you."

Katniss shook her head. "No," she refuted. "You didn't forget Haymitch."

"And ergo, District 12." Finnick flashed her his award-winning smile that could charm that straightest man on earth into his bed. "I didn't forget."

He was annoying Katniss more and more by the second. She could feel it, prickling her skin. "Right," she said stiffly. "Fine. Then tell me about last night - why I can't remember anything!"

Finnick shrugged. "I told you."

"No." Katniss looked him up at down, blushing when she realised he was still naked and had to force herself not to awkwardly clear her throat. She ignored his wide, humored smirk. "You told me I drank a lot. Why?"

Finnick rubbed his temples. "Damn, you need a lot of explanation, huh?" he asked. He sat down on the end of the bed. "Fine. Haymitch and I were drinking-"

Katniss snorted. "Good job looking after him and his drinking," she sarcastically interrupted.

Finnick stared up at her with cool, unwavering eyes. They were of the deepest sea-green and made her woozy just looking at them, as if she were rocking in the gentle sea. "He was crying," he stated. "About the Hunger Games. What would you have done?"

Katniss did not want to admit that she'd also let him drink, so she stayed quiet.

Finnick ignored her muteness and continued, but relaxed his defense. "So, we were drinking. You walked in when we were a bit tipsy and somehow merged in when Haymitch starting talking to you about his Games, and then you started talking about yours. Before we knew it we were all very sloshed, I was stripping you naked and we had sex." He shrugged like it was no big deal. "As I said, we drank a lot - evidently more than you could take. You must have been really hammered."

Katniss felt her face heat up and glared. "I was not," she said. "I was not!"

"Right." Finnick chuckled deeply, as if at a personal, inward joke. "And you're memory is fine, right?"

She said nothing again.

"Hey, don't fret - I'm feeling it, too. The hangover." Finnick smiled grimly. "I'm just better at dealing with it. You lash out at people."

Something in Katniss wanted to submit to the story because she certainly _did_ feel like crap - as if she had a hangover - and she certainly was naked and did sleep with Finnick last night. Yet... "I'm supposed to believe you didn't drug me?" she asked.

Finnick stood up and sauntered over to her. "Oh, girl on fire," he smirked, "if charm and a smile are now classed as drugs, then yes, I drugged you." Before she could reply, Finnick seemed to be in thought and continued, "You hit your head last night, though. At first I thought your memory loss might be because of that, then I realised you didn't hit it hard enough. That's why I was asking all that 'useless trivia' - in case you had a concussion."

Katniss ruled the possibility of 'head injury' out, after realising that Finnick was right; there was no bump or bruising on her head and her headache was wide-spread, not in a single area. She wasn't dazed or confused, either. She just couldn't remember what happened last night. She simply couldn't believe, however, that she got so drunk that it wiped her memory - no matter how possible she knew it was. "Maybe having sex with you was so traumatic that I repressed it," she said, seriously. Finnick frowned. "Amnesia caused by emotional trauma."

Finnick stared hard at her, unblinkingly. Then he burst into laughter. "Oh, Katniss Everdeen," he said. "You certainly didn't find it traumatic last night when you were shouting my name and begging me f-"

"_Stop!_" Katniss knew her cheeks were on fire and resented herself, and Finnick, because of it. "Just stop, Finnick."

Finnick shrugged. "Sorry," he said, looking smug as opposed to apologetic. "I was just making a point."

Katniss furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him, ambivalent. What was she to think? It really did seem that alcohol had wiped her memory, and something inside of her was telling her to trust Finnick, which she hated. Her hatred for him clouded her vision and blurred her perspective. "Making a point, huh?" she said, smiling sweetly. It looked so false that Finnick knew her next words would probably leave a mark. "Well, now you've finished with _that_ point, could you_ now_ make a point of leaving?" she asked.

Finnick blinked. "No," he said bluntly.

Katniss' anger rose with the air and she cried, in parts exasperation and fury, _"Why not!?"_

"This is my house." Finnick's grin was slow, taunting and infuriating. It withered Katniss. "Remember?"

Katniss momentarily blanched. She could feel the anger and the embarrassment spiking up within her again. Her lips drew into a thin line as she stared hard at Finnick, and simply said, "I remember."

He laughed. "That's good," he said, "considering how awful your memory is this morning."

Katniss grit her teeth. Her eyes grew fiery. "I'm going."

She stayed there for a few moments, her feet shuffling as if itching to move, yet being stopped by some sort of invisible restraint. "No you're not," Finnick observed. He looked over her for a few more seconds. "You'll want to get dressed," he said. Just as Katniss started muttering under her breath about him and fetched her clothes, then started towards the bathroom, Finnick added, "You can talk to me, Katniss."

She stopped, looked back at him. "What?" she asked.

"You can talk to me." Finnick's smile was soft, slow and sympathetic, so much so that it lit a fire in her chest - a pleasant one, like a warm, toasty campfire in the woods, under the befallen night. "About your dream. About the Hunger Games. I've been there, Katniss. I know how it feels."

Katniss kept staring at him. She wore nothing on her face; not a glare nor a smile, nor any inch of emotion. "I'd rather not," she said, and shut the door.

Finally alone, Katniss sagged in defeat and dropped the bedding she had used to hide her body. She felt sick to the bone and weird... confused, yet not; hurt, yet not; alone, yet not. It made no sense to her. Her memory, too, was confounding - how did she lose it? Did she truly drink too much? She never was a drinker but... maybe, if Haymitch persuaded her and was upset enough, she would. For him. And considering Finnick was there, it probably made her all the more up for drinking. Perhaps it _was_ plausible that alcohol was at fault for her memory loss.

Collecting a scoop of water between cupped hands, Katniss splashed her face to wake up. She quickly pulled on her clothes from the previous night, which had been scattered around the floor, and put her hair up in a ponytail like she usually did, were her mother not around. It felt right for her mother to do it in her usual braid, as opposed to herself.

With one last pull at her skin and a rub at her eyes, Katniss stepped from the bathroom, suddenly feeling subconscious. Finnick was dressed by then, and was waiting for her on the bed. He stood as she exited. "I'll walk you home," he said.

Katniss scoffed and intended to refuse, then thought better of it; seemingly, she was going to have to spend a lot of time around Finnick, now that he was in _her_ District and helping _her_ friend with his alcoholism. So, she simply stayed silent and ignored his presence, stomping down the stairs. Infuriatingly, he opened the door for her as if he was _such a gentleman,_ yet still she said nothing and only nodded tightly, stepping into the open air.

Had something changed since last night? She was sure it had. Yes, it was snowy and cold considering it was winter but the buildings looked newer and the place looked cleaner - it looked like District 12 was actually getting _cared_ for.

Finnick noticed her sweep of the surroundings and said, "I did it." As she looked to him, almost in shock, he shrugged. "I have a lot of money. People need renovations and food and... I give it to them."

_Money thrown at you by desperate Capitolites!_ Katniss thought bitterly. Still, she only said, "Right," and suppressed a shiver.

Finnick quickly took off his jacket and hung it off her shoulders.

"What are you doing?!" she asked, stopping mid-stride and staring skeptically at him. This act of his was tedious and irritating, and she could start to feel her restraint snapping. "I'm not some sort of weak little girl."

Finnick grinned. "I know that," he said. "You're the girl on fire - and even though you _are_ the girl on _fire_, you were looking a little cold."

Katniss barely repressed the urge to hit him.

A few seconds later, they were in front of her house. She was suddenly grateful for Finnick's jacket, even if she'd never admit it aloud, because she could feel the moisture in her skin freezing and drying up, and was barely stopping herself from noticeably shivering, or having her teeth chatter; Finnick, on the other hand, looked cool and completely unaffected by the weather. It made Katniss irritated for the umpteenth time that morning, and her competitive side drew her body up straight and forced her to hand Finnick's jacket back to him.

He only smirked knowingly at her and knocked on the door.

"Oh, Katniss!" Katniss' mother said as the door opened. "I've been so worried about you! You couldn't call and let me know you were with Finnick?"

"Ah..." Katniss, feeling guilty, looked up at the District 4 heartthrob and said, "Sorry."

She really was sorry, too; Ms. Everdeen seemed to have aged greatly overnight from the worry, and it made Katniss feel awful about herself.

Finnick smiled charmingly at the woman. She seemed to light up. "It's my fault, really, Ms. Everdeen," he said smoothly. "I'm very sorry about that."

_What a tool_, Katniss thought bitterly.

Katniss' mother looked to him and said, "Oh, nonsense! All is well, now. No need to take the blame!"

She was perfectly willing to let _Katniss_ feel guilty and take the blame though, wasn't she? Katniss didn't call. It was all _her_ fault, really, in her mother's eyes. "Surely you knew I was at Haymitch's?" she asked her mother.

Ms. Everdeen pursed her lips. "Yes," she admitted after a moment. "I found him passed out in the snow this morning, however. I checked him over and fed him soup, then sent him home to sleep. You were not there; that much was obvious when I found Haymitch's nose in the snow."

"Again, Ms. Everdeen, I'm truly sorry." Finnick smiled warmly at Katniss' mother again. Katniss' inward monologue just kept thinking, _What a bloody kiss-ass._ "It's my fault. I suggested-"

"Oh, nonsense!" The older woman smiled again. "So long as you're safe, right? Would you like to come in for some coffee, Finnick? I just put some breakfast on."

Finnick glanced slyly at Katniss, who looked like stoic, acrid poison. "Oh," he said gradually. The amusement in his voice did not go unnoticed by Katniss. "I'd better not."

Ms. Everdeen sighed. "If you're sure...?" she said.

He nodded. "Positive. I've got some things that need doing." He smiled grimly and shrugged, as if to say _"What can you do?"_. "You know how it is, I'm sure. This one will take a while."

Katniss pretended she _wasn't_ annoyed that she was stood outside in the freezing cold weather, slowly turning into an icicle. It didn't seem to be bothering Finnick, after all, so why should it bother her? "Yeah, mum," she input. "He has stuff to do."

They both ignored her. "And you're sure it will take so long?" her mother asked.

Finnick nodded, a little stiffly and - what was that Katniss saw? Remorse? Damn, the guy really _was_ a kiss-ass, faking sorrow about not being able to eat breakfast! "Yes, Ms. Everdeen. This is the hardest one I've had in a while."

Katniss' mother seemed to deflate. Katniss wondered just how well her mother knew Finnick - and how much she liked him. "If you're certain, then," she said. "Have a nice day, Finnick. Maybe you could pop by later for some dinner, or a drink?"

Finnick smiled. "Maybe so, Ms. Everdeen. I hope so." He turned to Katniss and said, "See you around, girl on fire," then nodded to her mother. "Goodbye, Ms. Everdeen," he said, and Katniss watched him walk out across the flat plane of crunching snow. She could see the indentations of their previous footsteps; feel the cold biting harshly at her skin.

She turned back to her mother. "So," she said, "breakfast?"

Her mother laughed. "There's plenty," she said. Then she gave Katniss a knowing look. "Which is good, considering you've got a lot to explain."

Katniss, with a sense of loathing and regret, stepped inside the house and brushed the snow off her boots. The door closed with an echoing finality behind her that made her wonder what a mess her life had become: she'd slept with Finnick Odair, renowned lover; she'd killed people in the Hunger Games which had scarred her for life, made it hard to sleep, and got her wondering if living really was worth it; she was being ignored by Peeta, who she wasn't sure if she loved; she may or may not have started uprisings within the District; and her best friend, Gale, most certainly did love her.

And to top it all off, her mother knew a lot about everything, and intended to know more.

_Great_, Katniss thought miserably, and let herself slink into the dining room for a very uncomfortable chat.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Sorry for any errors; I rarely have time to proof-read my chapters and this is one of them. Regardless, I hope you liked the update! Tell me what you think. We'll start to get more into the story next chapter. **


	3. Three Again

**WOW, this took me ages to update. I'm so sorry, really! This story isn't updated as frequently as some of you would like, I know; my other Katniss/Finnick story is my focus until I finish it. I'll update this one when I can. Sorry in advance. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Katniss kicked the dirt under her feet.

Her cheeks still felt like they were burning traitorously and her heart was beating far too fast to be considered normal. She found it hard to hunt when she was like this; her palms were sweaty and she could feel her resolve slipping through her fingers. It was all _his_ fault. All Finnick's fault. And her mother's.

Perhaps Katniss, herself, was at fault too - but it wasn't an option she found herself considering.

She was just so _irritated._ It scratched her insides raw and morphed into a dreadful embarrassment as it crawled up into her throat and cheeks. How could she have been so stupid? How could Finnick use her like that? It was as humiliating as it was disgusting.

Katniss slowly inhaled, drawing back her bow as she crouched up high on a slippery rock. She could feel the moss and slime beneath her boots; her eyes ached in their sockets. She fired at the squirrel as she exhaled...

And missed by a long shot.

The girl swore under her breath as the squirrel darted away. The arrow had thumped straight into a tree trunk, and it made her antsy that she was so remarkably unfocused today. She knew it was because of her mother; earlier, when Katniss has patted the snow off her shoes and sat patiently as her mother made her a cup of hot chocolate, she knew the worst she could imagine was coming. Yet, perhaps she had overstated the anger of the conversation and _understated_ the embarrassment.

"So," her mother started, looking at Katniss over the rim of her mug, "Finnick Odair, huh?"

Katniss heard her mother take a sip of her drink, whilst hers sat idly in her cupped hands. "Yes," she said. "You seemed to know him pretty well."

Her mother laughed lightly. "Well, he's a victor, Katniss." She said the word so casually that it stung her daughter. "Probably the most famous victor of all time. And he's looking after Haymitch."

Katniss bristled in her seat uncomfortably. "He seemed to know you pretty well, too."

"I give him some meals sometimes."

"_Meals?_" Katniss couldn't believe her ears. "Mum, you're giving Capitol's _playboy_ _**meals**?!_"

Katniss' mother pursed her lips. "I don't think what I give him is relevant," she said. Her mug thumped softly on the table as she put it down. "I'm more interested in what _he_ gave _you._"

Oh, God. The conversation was quickly turning very awkward for Katniss and she could feel the emotion lighting up her cheeks. Her fingers started nervously twisting around each other. "He didn't give me anything," she muttered. And yet as she spoke, her eyes could not hold her mothers.

Her mother's gaze burned through her and Katniss saw her, from her periphery, lean back. Was that a smile on her face? "Oh, I wasn't referring to a present." Her nails clicked against the her mug in the silence. "More of a... _ballpoint._"

Katniss jerked so suddenly that hot chocolate sloshed from her cup and scorched a trail down her front. "Ouch! Crap! Crap!"

Her mother only laughed and passed her a dish cloth. "Honestly, you'd think I didn't try to be careful about how I said it." She looked at her daughter through tired eyes as she wiped at her chest and said, "You've seen me examine naked men and women, Katniss. You've heard me talk about sex before. Why is it so awkward for you?"

"It's not... It's..." Katniss kept rubbing at her top though there was nothing, really, left to rub. She just kept staring down at it like looking anywhere else could kill her and tried to cool the heat in her cheeks. "It's not awkward for me."

The statement caught Ms. Everdeen so off guard that the hot chocolate she was in the middle of swallowing caught in her throat as she laughed, and then she was spluttering and turning red, coughing up her drink over the table. Katniss _was_ looking at her, then. "_Not awkward?"_ her mother exclaimed, laughing through her sharp gulps of air. She rubbed at her throat which hurt but her daughter was so red and so flustered and so _wrong_ at that moment that she didn't even care about her choking fit, or the hot chocolate sprayed all over the table. "Is that a joke, Katniss?"

If possible, Katniss seemed to shrink even further and look even more out of place. "No," she muttered, avoiding her mother's gaze once more even as she handed her the wash cloth. "No, it's not a joke."

Her mother sighed. "Sex is a perfectly natural thing, Katniss. I don't know why you find it so off-putting." She tilted her head at her daughter, momentarily faltering her movement as she wiped clean the table. "Is it because of how intimate it is? Or is it because you find sexuality uncomfortable? Oh! Do you simply not like seeing penises and-"

"Mum! _Stop_!" The stuttered words broke so stunningly from Katniss that it seemed to shatter any amusement Ms. Everdeen sought in her daughter's discomfort, yet the woman was desperately trying to repress a smile as she continued to clean the hot chocolate up. "Please, just _stop._"

Silence ensued and the older woman finally cleaned up every last drop of hot chocolate. She stood, pushing herself up from the table with a slight clearing of her throat, done only to cover up a slight laugh, and made her way to the sink. Katniss' discomfort was actually _tangible_. Her mother couldn't help herself, really. It was like stumbling across a coin on the floor; _you have to pick it up. _

So, her next words were spoken with her back to Katniss and with a giggle churning in her stomach. "Was he good?" she asked.

Abruptly, Katniss pushed herself away from the table, red and flustered and unable to think straight. The chair legs scraped across the floor, screeching, and it bled their ears. "I'm going for a hunt," Katniss announced briskly. And, tugging her father's hunting jacket from the coat rack, she stomped from the room.

"Use protection!" her mother's voice shouted after her, and her laughter danced in Katniss' mind long after the door was slammed behind her.

* * *

Later that day, returning unsuccessful from a round of hunting, Katniss found herself desperate for a distraction; an ear; a joke. She just wanted a friend, pure and simple. Perhaps Gale could have been the one to go to were Katniss not repulsed at herself for kissing him one day, then sleeping with Finnick Odair the next. It didn't help that every time she saw him, her insides bunched up and she was at a loss for words, either. She really didn't know what to do around him any more; so, because she knew Haymitch would undoubtedly be with _him_ and be sporting an incredible hangover, Peeta seemed like the only option. And she was grateful for that, truly, because she felt something for him that she couldn't explain herself. A bond, perhaps, after their long and suffering journey in the Hunger Games. All she knew was that he was a great listener, he made her feel better, he would most likely have some amazing cake for her to eat, and that she liked and trusted him. A lot.

So, even though they were supposed to be ignoring each other and he was upset with her, and there was an awkwardness between them that she found incurable, Katniss found herself dragging her boots quickly through the snow to visit her fellow victor. She wanted all the discomfort gone, anyway; she'd had enough of it. She missed Peeta, the boy with the bread, terribly. So much so it felt like a cramp in the pit of her stomach, sort of like the ones she experienced in the Capitol when she ate too much. That wasn't so much of a problem in District 12, inevitably. What did it matter, though? Over-eating was nothing compared to not having Peeta around. She felt kind of lost, wandering around aimlessly...

Katniss shook herself from thought as she got closer to his house in Victor's Village, ignoring the laughter she heard booming from Haymitch's house and the glow of warmth leaking from his dark windows. Finnick really _had_ lightened up Haymitch Abernathy, hadn't he? That was kind of miraculous; she almost felt impressed. _Almost._ Finnick was such a leper, though, that the feeling was difficult to choke up.

God, had she really _slept_ with him?!

Katniss shivered involuntarily, a shiver that had nothing to do with the declining temperature, and shuffled onto Peeta's front step. The place looked weirdly silent. Lifeless. "Peeta?" she called out, knocking thrice on the tall front door. There was no answer. She knocked again, harder this time, and said, "Peeta, please. I just want to talk!" Again, there was no answer. Katniss found herself unable to feel anything, not knowing what she _should_ feel. Should she be angry? Upset? Disappointed? Embarrassed? Offended? Guilty because she is the cause of this awkward relationship?

"Peeta..." She knocked again and when there was no answer, groaned low in her throat and turned around, back pressed against the door. Desperation began to grip her; she didn't have anyone to talk to and Peeta has always been there for her before. God, it was all _so _confusing. She found herself begging for him. "Peeta, I'm sorry. Please let me in, _please._ I'll do anything you want! I just want to talk! Let me in, please. Please, please, please, please-"_  
_

"Begging, Katniss?" Finnick Odair was suddenly there, a bag dangling from two fingers at his side, his other hand pressed into the pocket of his jacket. He was smirking. "That reminds me strangely of last night..."

Fury flared up in Katniss. "Leave me alone, Finnick!" she said, shooting him a glare. "I just want to talk to Peeta."

Was that sorrow in his eyes? _What a tool._ "Peeta's... He said he was visiting someone."

Peeta spoke to _him_ but not _her?!_ How worse could Katniss' day get?! If she wasn't barely ignoring her thumping head, she'd be storming back into her house by now! "_Who?_" she asked.

"A friend of his. A girl."

What girl friends does Peeta have? "Delly?" Katniss tried feebly.

Finnick nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I think that's her." He paused. "The pretty one."

For some reason, Katniss could feel her insides bubbling and her eyes narrowed into slits. "Isn't she a bit too young for you, Odair?" she shot back irritably.

With a light laugh, Finnick propped himself up against Peeta's fence, looking laid-back and casual even in the frosty weather. The fact Finnick could be so relaxed in the freezing climate irked Katniss; she was finding it difficult to feel her fingers. "Now now, girl on fire," Finnick scolded teasingly. "No need to be _jealous._"

The word made Katniss _fume._ "I am _not jealous!_" she snapped. "I just don't want another girl getting drunk and slipping into your bed!"

With a snort, Finnick said, "Wow. I love it when you talk dirty to me."

It was all Katniss could do not to slap him.

"Just leave me alone, Finnick," Katniss said, slinking past him and across the crunching snow. She needed a hot drink and some privacy so she could stew in what she _thought_ was self-pity. How more pathetic could she get, she wondered? "I just want my house."

"And Peeta, too, apparently." When Katniss glared at him from across her shoulder - evidently, the man was stalking her as he was following her home, and the idea just made her even more irritated - Finnick raised his hands in defence, still gripping onto the shopping bag with two fingers. It slapped against his side. "Okay, I'm sorry. I overstepped it."

Katniss just ignored him and kept walking, shaking her head to herself. It was silent for a while as she breathed deeply, her breath fogging out in the air before her and her fingers freezing by her sides. She kept wiggling them, furtively trying to warm them up; should Finnick know she was cold, she'd never live it down. She wouldn't let her be vulnerable about the weather whilst he's there, looking all sensual and laid-back, not a care in the world.

When she finally got to the door, feeling yet another stab of annoyance as she heard him follow her _up the steps to her house_, she began fumbling for her key in her pocket. It fell from her brittle fingers and clanked against the floor and Katniss found herself unable to look at Finnick, swearing under her breath, because her fingers were so cold she could barely bend them.

Suddenly, he was there. Finnick. Their heads almost bumped as they simultaneously bent down to scoop up the keys but he was quicker and his joints in his fingers were actually working, so Katniss found herself scowling at him as he held the key in front of her. Yet he was only smiling.

"You're cold?" he asked.

Katniss bristled. She refused to stuff her red fingers in her pockets because, again, that was a sign that yes, she _was _cold, which would be a complete contradiction to her stubborn reply of, "No."

Finnick chuckled deeply. He put his bag down by the front step and put the key in the lock but, instead of unlocking the door and letting Katniss slam it on his face - the thought gave her a brief tingle of satisfaction and the edges of her lips curled into a grim smile - he turned to her. And he took her hands in his.

Immediately, Katniss tried tugging back but there was something in his warmth, in the way his heat battled the frost of her fingers, that she found not only _Finnick _pulling her closer but herself, too. As if she needed to be closer to him. "How are you so warm?" she breathed, her hands marvelling in the flush of fire his touch brought her.

He grinned. "I'm naturally hot," he said, and winked at her. It was a crumby pick-up line and Katniss briefly scowled and went to retract her hands but Finnick, cringing, tugged her in again. "Sorry, that wasn't funny. I am always hot, though. And it helps if you wear thermals."

The idea didn't appeal to Katniss. Thermals were a Capitolite invention and... well... she didn't want to be associated with the Capitol more than necessary. It irked her. "Not all of us have thermals," she said.

"And not all of us want them, am I right?" Finnick's eyes bored into hers for a split second and Katniss suddenly froze but then his grip on her hands faltered and he picked up his bag again, and their gazes severed immediately. "I've got to go."

"Right," Katniss said numbly. She blinked, feeling a little dazed. "Good."

Finnick turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, chuckling. He only replied, "There's a thin line between love and hate, girl on fire."

Katniss scoffed. "Then let's hope it's thick enough for you to trip over it."

"And into your arms?" Finnick's eyes glimmered. "Of course."

The girl felt herself growing antsy again and her heart seemed to speed up, reminding her that this was a man she'd rather eat than talk to. And dammit, did he _irritate_ her. How could he get under her skin so quickly? How could he make so uncomfortable? Feel so inexperienced and vulnerable? And, most of all, why the hell did he keep coming back to her - and why didn't it piss her off as much as it should have?

"Dammit Finnick!" Katniss practically growled, frustration ebbing within her. "Don't you have something better to do than aggravate me?!"

The man seemed to actually be thinking about it, as if the question wasn't rhetorical; but Katniss could see the smirk just barely being suppressed on his face and the humour in his eyes, and she knew right then and there that he lived to tease and inflame her. How could she stand to even be in the same room as him last night, least of all _sleep_ with him?!

Alcohol. It had to have been the alcohol.

"Katniss?!" Ms. Everdeen rushed down the hallway of their home to Finnick and her daughter, where to two still stood on the front step. "Oh, good! It is you. I was just serving dinner..."

Katniss briefly wondered how long she'd been out; she woke up around lunchtime with Finnick, which was unfathomably abnormal for her. "Okay," she said, not looking back at Finnick as she stepped in.

Her mother wouldn't let her leave, however, and Katniss was forced in to lingering as she spoke to Finnick. "Hi again, Finnick."

Smiling smoothly, with the charm Katniss had seen so often demonstrated on television, Finnick replied, "Hello, Ms. Everdeen. How are you?"

Ms. Everdeen laughed. "I'd be better if my daughter didn't run out of the house at the mention of sex or a penis!"

Before she could stop it, Katniss was flustered and glowing red and both her mother and Finnick were laughing at her expense. Was the world just _trying_ to annoy her today?! Did everyone have some sort of plan to rile Katniss up into a state of immobility?! "I _wanted_ to _hunt_," she snapped at her mother.

The latter only laughed. "Of course. It had nothing to do with me discussing what _intimacy_ you and Finnick-"

"Don't say it," Katniss interrupted, still flushed red but feeling hotter now as embarrassment and anger held her tightly. "If you even so much as _think_ that I would _ever_ be with Finnick," she barely shot the man a glance, "I'll... I'll..."

"Run into his arms?" her mother prodded again, and this time Katniss felt her willpower snap and she turned on her heel, fuming inside, and stalked off into her bedroom. Yet, even when she was as sour as she was feeling, there was something vaguely warm glowing deep inside Katniss, and she couldn't shake the feeling of Finnick's heat seeping through her skin and the way his eyes said more than his mouth ever could.

* * *

**Kind of an abrupt ending, I know. I'm not too keen on this chapter; a lot of stuff has been going on around me recently and I've been getting a lot of blockage. Still, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I like writing Finnick and Katniss as opposites and people who hate each other, as opposed to what they are in my other story.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and taking the time to review! I'll try update within the next week.**

***Not proof-read***


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